Dinner Companions
by poeticgrace
Summary: Five dinner companions for Carrie. Complete.
1. Burger

Carrie never tells her friends about the single awkward dinner she has with Burger after what is still referred to as the "Post-It Incident." She doesn't like to speak of that breakup, even years later because it makes her feel foolish. It is one of the few times she was completely wrong about a man, much like the politician and probably her own father. Burger had seemed like a genuinely nice guy, a lot like Aidan, until he proved to be just as weak and mean as the rest of them.

"Well, if you had cared about me at all, you would have cared enough to stay and fight with me," she told him as she sipped her martini, not bothering to meet his eye as she smiled flirtatiously at the tall brunette at the next table. She had vowed to give as much time getting over Burger as he had put into ending it, and this dinner far surpassed the fifteen seconds it had taken him to scribble down a few words on a yellow sticky note. "I mean, Burger, you're a writer. You know how these stories are supposed to go."

The author frowned down at his beer before daring to look up at her. Carrie had liked how easy it was with Burger. They had fun and just seemed to fit. It wasn't something she had often in her life. Like the cards he used to collect around Manhattan, he had just seemed to find his way to her. Now that it was over, she could see that they were never destined to last. He wasn't going to ever be the type of guy that looked for love and that was what she wanted. She needed a man who would search the depths of the earth to get her, not a guy who couldn't even wake her up to say goodbye.

"Carrie, I'm sorry."

"I know, I got your note," she bit off sarcastically. "Look, do you have anything else to say? I am supposed to meet the girls for drinks later. I could just grab a taxi and cut out early if you don't have anything else. We don't need to prolong the inevitable, right? Besides, that guy has been giving me the eye all night. You don't mind, do you?"

She knows that it's catty and juvenile and she doesn't care. She just finishes her last bite of soup, dabs at her lipsticked mouth with the cloth napkins and tosses it gently down on the table before reaching for her Prada clutch and sliding effortlessly from the booth. She looks good – Carrie knows it, Burger knows it and the guy at the next table knows it. She will walk away from this with her head held high and his tongue wagging. She dropped a twenty on the table, popped a kiss on his cheek and winked at him before smiling.

"See ya, Burger," she grinned while leaning over to drop an engraved business card on the mystery man's table. "I'd say not to be a stranger, but I don't really have any interest in seeing you ever again."

Carrie only cries for four blocks after she leaves the restaurant.


	2. The Russian

Carries hates to feel stupid, and that's how The Russian makes her feel. She doesn't understand his world, with its artistic boundaries, linguistic differences and time-honored traditions. He doesn't make any effort to include her in any of these things either. There isn't a need for her to learn Russian or French when he speaks only English to her anyhow. There isn't a cause for her to take too much interest in his work when he likes to keep them separate, save for her supposedly necessary presence at various openings. She doesn't even need to bother with asking questions about who he was before he met her. It simply didn't mattered what came before her, only what happened when they were together.

She keeps finding herself in these situations where The Russian surrounds her with people who make her feel inferior. It's not an emotion Carrie has ever really felt. There is his daughter when he gets to Paris and the couple they met when she first came to the city and his endless stream of admirers back in New York City. There are critics who stop by their table when they are out in Manhattan and fans who don't mind speaking their piece when they spend a morning shopping in Paris. She becomes obsolete, barely worth mentioning, when he is around, and The Russian is too wrapped up in everything and everyone else to notice.

And all of this led up to her finding herself alone in the hotel, surrounded by layer upon layer of expensive tulle while she stared out the window, waiting for her Russian prince to come. He would later show up and apologize for getting caught up in his work, but Carrie found that she no longer cared. All she could think about was the reservation they had missed, the dinner that they would never have. For all she knew, it was the best meal of her life, and she would never get to have it.

It's a far cry from the man who had seemed to love her so completely back in New York. Gone was the man who had made breakfast for her in his ridiculously large apartment and who had held her when she had cried over her best friend's cancer and who had only wanted to prepare her so that her heart wouldn't get broken like his once had. She stares at him like he's a stranger and knows that he is. A man that truly loved her would have never forgotten about her for a stupid piece of art. A man who truly loved her wouldn't be able to forget her because she would be his lone muse, the inspiration for that art.

That's why Carrie doesn't feel bad at all when she charges two servings of the cavalier and an expensive bottle of champagne to his room when she checks out of the hotel; she figures he owes her that much.


	3. Aidan

Aidan was the first guy to ever discover one of her dirtiest secrets – the way she stashed old clothes in satin drawstring bags in her oven. Her rather large clothing inventory dictated that she needed more closet space than her rent-controlled Manhattan apartment afforded, so she had learned to be creative early. It had never really been an inconvenience before. It simply meant that she had to eat meals out, something that wasn't too difficult between her many work commitments, numerous romantic endeavors and endless stream of dinner invitations.

However, Aidan refuses to accept that they can't have a simple meal at home and pledges to make fajitas from scratch. She skips out of the apartment to write at the coffeeshop on the corner, glad to be away from the minor pains of seeing her otherwise pristine kitchen tarnished with actual cooking. It was the place where she indulged in secret behaviors like eating Saltines over the sink while reading old issues of _Vogue_. Carrie was still afraid to let him see these small imperfections. She knew there would eventually be a point when he wouldn't love her because of one of them.

He's "cooking to the Oldies," she teases him, when she comes into the apartment, moving around the kitchen like it his own with an unfamiliar ease. She's not sure that she likes how at home he seems in her apartment. She is still very much into having her own space and secretly hates the dog smell Pete always seems to leave behind everywhere. This is something else she would never tell Aidan. It just didn't seem like something a girl should tell her boyfriend.

"I'm just going to grab a shower," she calls to him after she drops her laptop off on her desk. He says something that she doesn't hear and she doesn't care enough to ask him to repeat it. Instead, she seeks refuge between the hot spray of water and takes extra long rinsing the conditioner from her hair. He's just setting the table – the one she usually keeps covered with magazine clippings, scarves, old shoeboxes and overdue Visa bills – when she comes out of the bathroom. Carrie hates when he does that, moves her stuff around without her there to oversee it. She has devised a careful system over the years, one that he seems intent on destroying. But again, she doesn't say anything. No man likes a nag.

"Do you like them?" he asks expectantly after Carries has managed to eat a few generous spoonfuls. She nods and smiles, neglecting to mention that she actually hates green peppers. She figures she can get through one meal. "Good, I'm glad. I'll have to cook for you more often."

Later on, Carrie realizes that is the precise moment she should have stuck up for herself. She gave up smoking for him before she was ready and let him break through her walls when she really just wanted to maintain her own space. She went to the country and pretended to like his stupid house when she missed luxurious afternoons in the Hamptons with the girls. She walked his dog and put up with the foul stench of KFC and inwardly groaned at his endless supply of near-empty deodorant sticks. She had even agreed to marry him because that is what he wanted her to do. In the end, there was no way they could have ever lasted.

She had loved Aidan once, but looking back, Carrie isn't sure that he ever truly loved the real her.


	4. Big

It all started with a Sarah McLachlan.

It was before the era of MP3 and iPod, when music collections still consisted of vinyl and plastic discs bought at actual record stores sprinkled throughout Manhattan. He still preferred his records, while she teased him about being old and shuffled her CDs back and forth between their apartments to keep him somewhat hip. He never really seemed to have much use for her taste until he discovered Sarah.

Sarah was a very particular mood for Carrie, one that usually relied on rain and tears and empty calories to set the mood. She usually went shoe shopping afterwards and had one too many drinks with the girls. She was her sad music, the place she went to escape and where tears were okay. Carrie had never really shared that part of herself with any man before Big. In fact, even then, he had to discover it on its own.

It happened after the whole conversation about oranges in her bed and staying at her apartment. He had become comfortable enough to use his own key and let himself fin when she was going to be late with the girls at dinner or he had a meeting across town. She was running a little behind one evening when they were supposed to meet for dinner, so he had let himself in after she had called from a pay phone on Bleecker to tell him. Padding around her apartment in his expensively socked feet, he found a beer in her fridge and thought about flipping on the television before reaching for the nearest disc and slipping it into her stereo.

Forty-five minutes later, she finally made it back to the apartment to find him sitting on the edge of her bed, listening intently to a song and scribbling down notes on the back of last month's phone bill. Carrie watched him from the doorway, mystified as to why he was to entranced by the track listing from "Surfacing." When the final track faded away, he only stared vacantly at the stalled stereo in amazement.

"Uh, hi," she finally spoke up from her post by the bathroom.

Big gave a silent wave and a nod before coming over to turn off the stereo. "Hey, kid," he eventually remarked as he came over and kissed her absently on the head while shoving the phone bill in his pocket. When Carried tried to question about it, he only waved her off. "Just leave it, Carrie." His tone told her that she probably should, so she brushed it off and asked where he wanted to go for dinner. Big made reservations for the Waldorf at ten.

It's only years later, while trying to find an address on his computer, that she sees it: "Carrie Music." She recognizes most of the tracks as ones that have played some kind of significance in their relationship, from that dance on his last night in New York to the song that played at their wedding. He had made an entire soundtrack to their relationship, a small but significant detail that artfully displayed just how romantic he could be.

Carrie doesn't say anything when she plays it that night over dinner.


	5. The Girls

"I have to get home to the girls."

"Yeah, Brady has soccer practice early. I hate to cut out early but…"

"Don't worry about it. Smith has an early call time and I haven't seen him all week."

"John finally comes home in the morning, so I have to get to JFK early anyhow."

There had been a time when late nights dominated their social lives, but the four girls barely had enough time to meet for a quick dinner lately. Charlotte was wrapped up in motherhood and Miranda was still trying to get her own firm off the ground while spending time with her family and Samantha had recently reunited with Smith and Carrie was trying to manage a bicoastal lifestyle with Big. Life had changed so much for them over the past year, so much in fact that this was the first dinner they'd had together in almost two months.

There had been times when one or the other hadn't been able to make it but they still managed to get together in trios and pairs. First, Lily had caught the flu and then Carrie had spent two weeks in London with Big while he was negotiating a major merger. Samantha had flown to Auckland last month to be on set while Smith filmed in the latest Peter Jackson project and Miranda had put in too many late hours trying to get her client roster up to par. It was only when Carrie had insisted they make time when they'd missed Charlotte's birthday last week that they had really made a concerted effort to all four be in the same place at the same time.

"It was nice getting together. Harry and I keep saying that we should have everyone over for dinner."

"I'd offer, but no one wants to come all the way out to Brooklyn."

"You're right about that, honey. Besides, Smith is a big star now. He can't be seen in a borough."

"You know that Bridge & Tunnel is very hip right now, Samantha. I thought you read my column."

Samantha smiled and shrugged apologetically before waving over the waiter to pay the tab. Carrie's phone rang from the tiny confines of her bejeweled Judith Lieber bag, which Miranda took as permission to check her Blackberry for any word about the brief she had turned into the judge that afternoon. Charlotte decided to order dessert to-go to take home to her daughters.

Once the tab was finally paid, the four of them piled out of the restaurant and into the cool crisp air of late fall. Carrie started to wave down a cab when a dark town car pulled up to the curb. She smiled gratefully at her driver, knowing that Big had probably sent Raul since he hated for her to be out late on her own anymore. She thought about suggesting a night cap until she glanced back at her friends, all of them busy tapping away on their phones.

"Well, we will have to do this again soon!"

"Yeah, let's not wait too long."

"I'll set something up this week, send you all emails so we can get it on the books."

"Wow, has it really come to this?" The other three girls stop messing with their phones now to look up at Carrie. She wonders when they quit having time for each other and when she started to find that acceptable. Sure, they all had their own lives now and their priorities had changed. However, that didn't mean that it had to end up like this. "Let's go get a drink. Just one, without talking about our kids or our men. I miss you all so much."

Charlotte shakes her head at Carrie. "We just spent the last hour together."

"An hour in two months, Charlotte," Carried replied. "When did that start to be okay?"

The brunette grimaced down at her Kate Spade ballet slippers. "I don't know…"

"Carrie's right," Samantha exhaled. "I can't believe it was that long."

"I know we're all so busy, but I feel like I'm losing this," Carrie explained, waving her hand amongst the group for emphasis. "We vowed this would never happen."

Miranda wrapped her arm around her friend's shoulder and hugged to her side. "So we slipped."

"Let's get a drink," Charlotte agreed. "Harry can put the girls to bed for once."

"I'm used to not getting any sleep anyhow," Miranda shrugged. "I'll just order an extra big coffee tomorrow morning before practice. Maybe it will make those soccer moms less annoying."

"Good luck with that," Samantha bit off sarcastically. "Send Charlotte in your place. She'd fit right in."

"Hey!" the brunette countered while the other three laughed in unison.

Raul smiled appreciatively as the four women crawled into the back seat of the luxurious car, calling out directions to one of their old favorite haunts. Carrie leaned back in the seat and listened to the three of them talk before discreetly sending a text to her husband to thank him for the car. She didn't wait for a reply before burying her phone back in her clutch. She loved John more than anything, but meals with him were never quite like this.

Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha would always be her favorite dinner companions.


End file.
